


Romcom, with Sheep

by Allothi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-01
Updated: 2009-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allothi/pseuds/Allothi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some time in the third year after Arthur is crowned king, Merlin has to leave Camelot, to rid a small part of Cumbria of a curse that has apparently defied the curse-breaking skill of any other benevolent sorcerer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romcom, with Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Good stuff is thanks to fabulous betas, waldorph and stealingpennies. Faults, flaws, blemishes, aberrations? All my own.

Some time in the third year after Arthur is crowned king, Merlin has to leave Camelot, to rid a small part of Cumbria of a curse that has apparently defied the curse-breaking skill of any other benevolent sorcerer.

"But who on Earth would curse Cumbria?" Arthur says, when Merlin tells him. "There's barely anyone living there. It's just _sheep_."

"Maybe one of the sheep did it," Merlin says mildly.

"Of course. Magical sheep. It scares me that that's not even the least believable magic threat to the kingdom you've ever suggested to me."

"Hey, every single one of which has been true, I'll have you remember."

"Including the sheep?" Arthur smirks. Merlin doesn't.

" _Not_ including the sheep, which was a _joke_."

"Hm," Arthur says. He searches for something -- ah, yes:"You know, you never actually managed to prove it about the fairies."

"They were real. You almost died. It really happened."

"Of course it did. And evil sorcerous sheep are real, too."

This comment, in Arthur's regal judgement, really does not deserve the small fireball Merlin hurls in response. The bastard actually lets it slightly singe the front of Arthur's royal robes, and get his royal skin prickling with sweat, before Merlin snaps his fingers and the thing winks out of existence.

"Oi! Hey! Watch it!" Arthur shouts. "You do remember I'm the King, right? You misbehave, you get your head chopped off!"

"Misbeha--" Merlin splutters. "You do remember I'm extremely powerful, right? And don't threaten me!"

"Don't _almost inflagrate_ me! It's not my fault if you have to make up fairies and magic sheep to make yourself feel special!"

"They're not made up! _Except_ for the sheep," Merlin puts in, before Arthur can say anything. "I hate you, you know. You're a prat, and I hate you."

Arthur raises his eyebrows in a condescending way. It is a skill he has practised, over the years, and improved and improved -- often with Merlin as his subject.

"I hate you an awful lot," Merlin says.

"This is all really just an excuse, isn't it, so you can run away on holiday to the Lake District," says Arthur.

Merlin just shakes his head. ""You are _insane_. But you know what, it'll be like a holiday -- better than a holiday -- because I'll be far, far away from you and your prattish, insane, royal prattery."

"I'll certainly enjoy having you far away."

"Well -- good!"

"Good!"

" _Good_!"

"Have _fun_ in Cumbria," Arthur says.

"It'll be hard not to, I'll be smiling every time I think of the hundreds of miles between us!" And Merlin storms out of the throne room in an entirely disrespectful and infuriating way.

Arthur feels infuriated. He considers some kind of royal disciplinary action -- disrespect can undermine a king's reign from within, after all -- but Merlin would probably only magic himself out of it. Disrespectfully. And infuriatingly.

This is clearly the reason Arthur's father started killing sorcerers.

~

The next morning, Arthur watches Merlin ride out alone, on the best horse Arthur's stables could offer. Not that Merlin knows it, the little idiot.

Arthur then proceeds to sulk for the rest of the day.

The _next_ morning, Arthur wakes up feeling less sulky, and more actively annoyed. He runs into Sir Bedevere near the training grounds, and decides the man could do with a bit of impromptu sparring. But unfortunately, Morgana intervenes while Arthur's still warming up.

They watch Bedevere limp away in the direction of the court physician's chambers -- clutching his bloodied nose and making soft, damaged sounds entirely unbefitting to a knight.

"Missing your boyfriend?" Morgana says.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Oh, Arthur. I'm sure he would be, if you'd ask him."

"I don't want him to be," Arthur insists. "I don't even know who you're talking about."

She shrugs, murmurs a spell, and an image appears in the air, a figure on horseback, riding through the fields. Arthur is two steps towards the thing, to look closer, before he can stop himself. Morgana laughs at him, her eyes sparkling.

"Of course," she says. "You don't care about him a bit."

Arthur again regrets not inheriting his father's genocidal tendencies.

~

Three weeks later, and Merlin is still off in the North West, far, far away from Camelot -- just as he said he'd be. And that's exactly where Arthur likes him. Soft-headed, nit-witted, magical pain in the arse that he is. Morgana occasionally shows Arthur updates -- she and Gwen are really inordinately interested in Merlin's pursuits. Merlin mainly seems to spend his time wandering amongst sheep and talking to attractive shepherdesses. It's dull and boring, and Arthur doesn't care.

The shepherdess of the week is a slight, doll-like young woman with blonde, curling hair and large blue eyes. Morgana waves a hand, and the image zooms in to give a closer view of her face and Merlin's -- both smiling rather sickeningly.

"Oh!" Gwen says, leaning closer, at Morgana's side. "She's very pretty!"

Arthur glares at her. Morgana does, too (perhaps for different reasons).

"Er. Not that you're not pretty too!" Gwen says, hastily. "Much prettier! -- Both of you! Er, Arthur, not that you're pretty, as such -- not that you're _not_ pretty, I mean, um--"

In the image, Merlin places his hand on the shepherdess's arm.

"Oh!" Gwen says again. She shoots Arthur a rather concerned-looking look. "Um. He's probably just being polite, though."

Morgana says, "Is that what the peasants are calling it these days?" and Gwen scrunches her face, looking torn between annoyance and laughter.

"Huh." Arthur inspects the image closely. "She's probably an evil sorceress, trying to beguile him."

~

Merlin stays at the evil sorceress-shepherdess's cottage. Morgana begins withholding magical footage.

"Trust is very important in a relationship," she says.

"I'm sure they're just friends, really," says Gwen.

"Even if they are sleeping together, it's probably not serious," Morgana adds.

Arthur sends a servant to pack him a bag, and another to ready his horse. "Faster than humanly possible, if you value your heads!" -- and the wretches scurry off, snivelling and far too slow.

"Going on a trip?" Morgana asks, in butter-wouldn't-melt innocent tones.

"I have -- some business. In Cumbria."

She nods solemnly. "I expect it's very important."

"Have fun!" says Gwen. "Give my love to Merlin! Not that I-- I mean, of course I love Merlin, but not like _you_ lo--"

Arthur flees for the stables, in a dignified, kingly and awe-inspiringly regal fashion.

~

Of course, Arthur does remember, years ago, feeling a certain kind of _attraction_ to Merlin. When he first met him, when he noticed that Merlin had nice eyes and an incredible smile and was just that tiny bit taller, and had a rather nice voice -- and things like that -- but then Merlin was annoying, and a servant, and a terrible servant, too, and incredibly disrespectful, _and_ , as it turned out, secretly a warlock -- and Arthur decided he could never have been attracted to Merlin really. Not at all.

This could, Arthur supposes, mean that he has in fact been attracted to Merlin all along. He could have been in denial for all these years. He ponders the matter as he rides heroically through the fields of Albion. It's a long and solitary journey, you see. He needs some kind of idle-thought material to entertain him. He can't actually have spent half a decade repressing some kind of deep, more-than-friendly attachment to his rubbish ex-manservant and now magical advisor. That would just be silly.

Arthur drives his horse to an extra-quick gallop -- not that he's worried, as such, but Merlin _is_ in danger from an evil shepherdess. Merlin is an important magical resource. It would be a great loss to the kingdom if he died. And Morgana and Gwen would probably be upset, too. Which would be tiresome. And Arthur would have to make a speech at Merlin's funeral, and he has no idea what he'd say. (Except perhaps he'd say that it's always a mistake to make a move on a shepherdess -- however pretty -- when you've got a handsome king right there at your side.)

~

"Hello," Merlin says. "I'm a little busy right now."

The shepherdess says something rather Welsh-sounding, and raises a magic shield to protect them from an oncoming fireball.

"Sorceress!" says Arthur, jumping off his horse and reaching for his sword.

"King Arthur!" says the evil sorceress shepherdess. "My lord, it's an honour to meet you!"

" _Fuck_ ," says Merlin, raising his hands to reinforce the shield as another three fireballs come hurtling towards them.

Arthur looks about for their attacker. On the other side of the field, he espies a sheep, snarling somewhat, and just about balancing on its hind legs. He blinks and looks again, just to make sure. He asks Merlin what it is that they're fighting, just to make certain-sure.

"Evil sheep sorcerer," Merlin explains. "Cursed the crops not to grow."

"Poor Betsy," says the shepherdess. Her eyes well up a little. "She wasn't always evil, you know. But she had an unhappy lambhood. Gareth beat her once, with a stick."

"Gareth?" Arthur asks, and at the sound of this name, the sheep makes a loud, bleating roar, adding lightning to the onslaught of fireballs.

"My brother. He wasn't very nice," says the shepherdess. "Betsy killed him last year, actually -- headbutted him down a well -- but we all thought it was a freak accident."

Arthur isn't quite sure how one answers a disclosure like that. But he is saved any severe social embarrassment when the shield fails, several lightning bolts come speeding through, Merlin screams Arthur's name, and one bolt, particularly well-aimed, hits him square in the chest. The world goes black to the sound of Merlin cursing an awful lot, and growling some kind of incantation.

~

Arthur comes to lying on his back on the grass, and finds that he is alive. He remarks upon this fact.

"I'm alive."

"Oh, thank god," Merlin says, knelt next to him, hand at Arthur's neck and feeling for a pulse -- just to check, it seems, that Arthur isn't lying and dead after all. The shepherdess is kneeling next to Merlin, and Arthur notices that Merlin's free hand is holding one of hers. He feels suddenly grumpy.

" _How_ am I alive?" he says.

"Um. I asked the Sidhe to cast an enchantment on your sword's scabbard, about a week before I left. It protects you from injury."

"I thought I was going to die!" Arthur protests.

"Yeah, you were hit by a lightning bolt."

" _Yes_ , and I thought I was going to _die_ ," Arthur _protests_. "But apparently I had a magic scabbard protecting me, I was never going to die, and I didn't need to feel that way _at all_!" He glowers up at Merlin, who looks back down at him with an odd, soft sort of expression on his face.

"You might've died," Merlin says. "I didn't know for definite it would work. And I didn't want you to take risks."

There is, possibly, a little pink in Merlin's cheeks. Flustered, Arthur makes a tactical decision to change the subject. He asks after the sheep.

"Oh, sorted," Merlin says, turning to smile at the shepherdess. "I kept up the shield, while Enid crept round and stabbed Betsy in the back." He looks down, and seems only now to realise the fact of their joined hands. There is an -- entirely egregious -- amount of embarrassed flushing and fumbling, and then Merlin's hand is finally liberated from its feminine shackle.

"Sorry," says Merlin to _Enid_ \-- and Arthur thinks that he has always hated that name.

"Oh, no," _Enid_ says. "You were very upset."

Arthur glowers at her. To his surprise, she barely flinches, only grins and adds:

"Well, I have shepherdessing to see to." -- and off she goes, almost skipping, her skirts gathered about her, onto some tiny rural path through the fields that leads towards -- as far as Arthur can tell -- yet further fields. Presumably with sheep in them.

"Thank you!" Merlin calls after her.

She turns and calls back: "Just don't leave without saying goodbye!"

~

Arthur's horse is cowering, not-particularly-hidden behind a hedgerow, obviously upset by the evil sheep. Arthur hopes he's not going to have to avoid all things white and woolly on the journey back. Really, traumatised transport would be just his luck.

Merlin takes the reins, and starts leading the horse in the direction of the now-sinking sun. "Enid's cottage is this way," he says. "Come on. Unless you have somewhere else to be, of course."

Arthur shrugs. He doesn't have anywhere else to be. Which means he's stuck, he realises. Stuck here with Merlin, which, all right, actually, maybe, hypothetically, in fact, possibly might not actually be a hardship, but stuck here with Merlin and _Enid_ , which--

"You two seemed close," he says.

"She's nice," Merlin agrees. "And it's good to meet more non-evil sorcerers."

"She could be evil. Just because the sheep was, doesn't mean she isn't too."

"Don't be a prat," Merlin says, far too cheerfully.

"She _could_ be," Arthur repeats, but Merlin ignores him, even whistles a snatch of a song. Arthur looks round at his face -- Merlin looks ridiculously, brainlessly happy.

"You're in love with her, aren't you," Arthur says, and Merlin has the nerve to laugh.

"With _Enid_?"

"Don't lie to me, Merlin. I saw you. With the-- your hands. And before--"

"Before? Hm, I thought I felt someone spying on me." Merlin looks up at the sky, and waves. "Hi, Morgana!"

"You look like an idiot," Arthur tells him.

"Well that's appropriate, according to you."

"Huh. _Idiot_." Arthur puts particular venom into the word.

"An idiot you've apparently travelled all the way up here to see," Merlin says, grinning, if possible, even _more_. "Or are you going to tell me you were just in the neighbourhood?"

Arthur feels caught out -- although he's sure he has good, unsentimental reasons for being here. "You'd been gone a long time," he says.

"Oh?"

"You're _useful_. I needed to make sure you weren't dead."

"Morgana could have done that, without leaving Camelot." Merlin seems to be trying to catch his eyes, but Arthur looks away.

"I--"

"Missed me?"

Probably. "No!"

A pause, and then: "You really did have me worried for a minute back there, you know."

Arthur touches his chest, remembering. "That's _your_ fault for not casting a better shield." He means it fairly lightly, but Merlin doesn't take it that way.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"Hmph," says Arthur.

"I really--"

"You can bring her back to Camelot," says Arthur, quickly. "Enid. You can bring her back, and we'll find her a place -- she can be another royal sorcerer and defend the kingdom. Or she can even bring her sheep if she'd like, and be a royal shepherdess."

"Um. Arthur-- Well." Merlin gestures ahead of them, and Arthur makes out the shape of a squat little house, familiar from Morgana's sorcerings. "I think she's happy here, though."

"I'll pay her well." There's an image of Merlin and Enid walking in through that cottage door which Arthur makes very sure to dismiss from his mind. "And if there's anyone she's taking care of-- We can sort something out. Anything." He feels terribly strange when Merlin shakes his head.

"No, there isn't. But I really--"

"Don't go," Arthur says. "I mean, come back. Don't not come back."

They reach the cottage. Arthur can see Merlin's horse tied up beside it. They lead his own to the same post. Merlin fastens the reins securely through a hole near the top. He says:

"I'm really not in love with Enid."

"Oh," Arthur says. "You're not?"

"I'm definitely not." Sounding quite serious.

"Oh," says Arthur.

"Mm," says Merlin.

"Well," says Arthur.

"Well?" says Merlin.

"Well. Hm." Arthur goes to unfasten his horse's saddle. Merlin -- perhaps accidentally -- reaches out a half second later, so that their fingers touch. For a moment, Merlin stills, and then he presses his palm against the back of Arthur's hand.

"Um," says Merlin. "Um, I'll never leave. I'll never not come back."

"Oh. Well," says Arthur. "Good. Extremely good." He turns his hand, so that their palms touch. "I'm glad that's all arranged."

"Ah," says Merlin, a little quiet, a little certain. "I'm glad too."

Their equine third wheel stamps and snorts.

~

When they ride away the following morning, Enid waves them a cheery goodbye, and when Merlin waves back and shouts promises to write and visit and stay in touch, and swap spells and tips about potions, Arthur -- Arthur feels only very mildly annoyed.

"It'll be good to get home," Merlin says.

"Indeed." Back to Camelot, where Merlin belongs. But Arthur realises something. He frowns.

Merlin frowns back, puzzled-fond. "What is it?" he says.

"I just thought. Morgana will be awfully smug."

"Mm. She's probably organised a coup, as well, in your absence."

"Oh god, she probably has." It seems entirely too likely.

"I expect she'll be a just leader, though. And you never much liked the beaurocratic side of kinging."

"I was mainly in it for the questing," Arthur agrees. He brightens. "I'll have more time for that!"

Merlin smiles at him, and Arthur thinks, _What are kingdoms, anyway?_

[End.]

[All hail Queen Morgana, and her Queen, Guinevere!]


End file.
